


goddess

by exprsslyfrbidden



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Smut, clarke is probably a frat boy at this party tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 07:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6365221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exprsslyfrbidden/pseuds/exprsslyfrbidden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frat toga party in which Octavia is a tease and Lexa's had enough. Smut, with a tiny pinch of plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	goddess

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by this picture: https://40.media.tumblr.com/f051331509d451e8c5c01799fdc14771/tumblr_o2vv0dMajj1u9e6afo1_540.jpg
> 
> I'm a fanatic supporter of OT3/OT4, so this was a little practice with Lexa and Octavia's dynamic. And an excuse to write smut.

There’s way too much skin and not enough alcohol at this party, and Lexa isn’t quite drunk enough to ignore the threesome currently underway in the upstairs bathroom. She scrunches up her nose and backs out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind her and hoping the one downstairs isn’t similarly occupied. 

Deep bass shakes the house from somewhere, a discarded sheet/toga tangled in the bars of the railing and stained with something that looks disturbingly like vomit. The living room is a mess of white cloth and psychedelic disco lights, writhing frat boys clad in white boxers grinding on sorority girls in sheet togas that are succumbing to gravity. A sheet hangs skewed over the hallway, a messy TOGA PARTY scrawled on it in splattered green paint with the frat’s Greek symbols slapped on in red. The air is thick and hot, an unpleasant stench of alcohol, vomit, and sweat clogging her nose. She has to push past an occupied couple in the hallway before she can reach the bathroom, releasing a breath of relief when she finds it unoccupied. 

Someone knocks on the door when she’s washing her hands, and she opens it cautiously. 

She’s greeted by a legitimate, real life Greek goddess. Dark hair cascading down bare shoulders and sharp, alert features make Lexa’s breath catch, air frozen in her lungs. She’s wearing a white dress that’s dipping too low to be legal, barefoot with legs that go on for miles. Lexa realizes how drunk she is when she finds herself speechless, frozen in the doorway of the bathroom. 

The girl looks her up and down slowly, a smirk growing on her face. “You gonna let me use the bathroom?” Lexa stutters, feeling her face redden. The girl’s voice is raspy and suggestive, tinged with amusement at Lexa’s speechlessness.

“You’re not wearing a toga.” is somehow the only thing that manages to get out of her mouth, and a single immaculate eyebrow twitches up, amused. 

“You’re observant.” Lexa is sure that her face is on fire, but the girl’s still looking at her with a half smirk, half smile that makes Lexa want to do something reckless. She grins stupidly back, and the girl’s smirk deepens. 

“What’s taking so long?” comes a voice from behind the girl, and for the first time, Lexa notices the guy standing there. He’s got tribal tattoos down both arms and his toga is a twisted mess, rock-hard abs on full display. “Hey, we need that bathroom.” he informs Lexa, looking so turned on it must be uncomfortable. She envies him. 

“Don’t be so crude, Lincoln.” the girl reprimands, and she turns a teasing look back at Lexa. “If you wouldn’t mind…” 

Lexa finally manages to get her motor cortex back under control and gets out of the way, eyes pinned on her goddess. The girl throws her a lingering smirk, eyes hooded. “Thanks, babe.” she husks, and then the door is clicking locked and there are no bathrooms in the house that aren’t being used for sex. 

Lexa sighs, letting her forehead thud against the wall. She’s drunker than she’d thought, but Anya is nowhere to be found, so no ride home. Probably still flirting with that Raven girl. A quick look in the backyard confirms her suspicions - her cousin is in the far corner, murmuring to another dark shadow sitting on the bench next to her. The pool is empty of water but full of idiotic frat boys fighting over a beer-slippery football. She peers over the edge and quickly pulls back as the football whooshes by her head. 

“Hey, could you get that?” a guy shouts, his toga tied around shoulders like a cape. She retrieves the ball and tosses it back, a chorus of thank yous echoing out of the empty pool. She returns to the house, wrinkling her nose at the wall of humidity that engulfs her as soon as she slides the glass door open. She picks through a minefield of discarded beer bottles and paper plates in the kitchen, grabbing an unopened beer and cracking it open on the scratched tabletop. The bitter beer doesn’t even register on her tongue anymore, and a pleasant buzz warms her body. She closes her eyes and sighs, leaning against the cool metal of the fridge. 

“Having fun?” 

The familiar voice carries easily over the thumping bass, and Lexa’s eyes fly open. The Greek goddess is sipping her own bottle of water, watching Lexa with interested eyes. Lexa somehow manages to swallow her mouthful of beer without choking. “Where’s your boyfriend?” Lexa asks, immediately cursing herself and her inability to talk to girls while drunk. 

The goddess shrugs, face clouding over momentarily. “Lincoln’s not my boyfriend. He fell asleep, so I left him in the bathroom.” Her expression turns sly, and she sets the bottle of water down. Lexa swallows. “You know, you’re not wearing a toga, either.” Lexa looks down, forgetting what she’s wearing. It’s just a red flannel button down over a white tank top, and she’s kind of confused at her own lack of spirit before remembering she didn’t have any white sheets to wear. She glances back up to find the girl wearing that teasing half smirk again. 

She gathers her wits. “Observant.” Lexa throws back, mimicking their earlier exchange. The girl’s lips quirk up at the corners. 

“Mockery is the product of a weak mind.” she teases, and Lexa feels playful competitiveness rise up in her. 

She doesn’t even get to think before the words leave her mouth. “It’s not my fault you’re making me weak.” Heat rushes to her cheeks and she grips her beer bottle tighter. Maybe drunk Lexa is smoother than she thought. 

The goddess seems pleasantly surprised, and Lexa can see her pupils dilate in the stark fluorescent light of the kitchen. The girl opens her mouth to respond, but a shout interrupts her. 

“Octavia! Get over here! Beer pong tournament!” Someone calls, and the goddess - Octavia? - gives Lexa an apologetic look. 

“Sorry. Duty calls.” She gives Lexa a cheeky grin, and then in the blink of an eye, she’s gone again. Lexa feels like screaming. Another chance at her Greek goddess, lost! She sighs and takes another swig of beer. At least she knows her goddess’ name now - Octavia. 

Ironic. She’s pretty sure Octavia is a Greek name - wait, or is it Roman? She shrugs. Her recall of academia whilst drunk isn’t particularly amazing, so that line of thought can wait for another, more sober time. A clamor of shouts draws her attention to the living room. She wanders to the doorway and takes in the sight of a hastily assembled game of beer pong. The cups are haphazardly arranged on the coffee table, paper plates dusting the ground around it. There’s a small crowd clustered around the table and her goddess is on one side, facing off against a grinning frat boy with freckles and tousled black hair. 

“You’re going down, O!” he shouts, and Octavia flicks him off with a grin. 

“Yeah, down on your girlfriend.” She counters. The crowd oooohs and hoots, high off the energy of a well-executed comeback. 

Lexa can’t help a smile, taking another sip of beer. Octavia sinks the first two shots with practiced ease, the boy missing both to the derision of his buddies. On the third shot, Octavia turns around and makes the shot over her shoulder, earning the cheers of the crowd and a significant portion of Lexa’s drunken respect. Beer pong is hard; she knows after trying it after vodka shots and almost falling over just trying to stand. 

The boy drinks almost all of the beer, Octavia only downing two cups by the time there’s three red cups left. Lexa’s enjoying the show - her goddess exudes confidence fitting for a divine being, all teasing smirks and taunting grins. Her bare arms glow in the low light of two broken light bulbs and one flickering one, muscles lithe and fluid beneath her skin in a way that attracts the artist in Lexa. She wishes she could draw, commemorate the sight she’s witnessing on paper and keep it forever. 

Octavia glances over right before a particularly difficult shot, gaze catching on Lexa’s with a jolt. Her eyes widen and her hand twitches to the side, the ball bouncing tinnily off the lip of the cup. The crowd awws and the boy cheers, but Octavia’s eyes don’t leave Lexa’s once. Her gaze is intense and Lexa feels like an exhibit in a museum, pinned to the wall and frozen in the ferocity of her scrutiny. She raises an eyebrow, suddenly feeling ready to play the game of seductress. Octavia returns the look, downing a cup of beer without leaving Lexa’s eyes. Lexa’s about to lean away from the doorway and join her goddess, anticipation growing in her gut - 

Someone taps her on the shoulder, and she damns her reflexes for turning her around so quickly. 

“Lexa, you want a ride home?” Anya’s drunk, but not on alcohol. Raven’s hanging to the side, lips clearly swollen and an obvious hickey darkening on her neck. She gives Lexa a cheeky grin. Anya laughs at Lexa’s expression. “C’mon, kid. You leaving or not?” 

“I think I’ll stay a little longer.” Lexa finds herself saying, and Anya nods, glancing back at Raven. 

“All right. Stay safe, kiddo.” 

“Use protection!” Lexa calls after them, and Anya flicks her off as she leaves with Raven. Her jovial mood sours sharply when she glances back at the beer pong game and finds her goddess gone. The dance mob closes up around the crowd of beer pong-ers, and she scans the room (not desperately, she’ll hit anyone who says she was desperate) for a glimpse of Octavia’s dark hair. Three passes fails to reveal the object of her desire, and despondent irritation flares up. She downs the rest of her beer (somehow it’s already empty) and places the bottle on the counter before pushing off the doorframe to find Octavia. 

She spots a flash of her hair in the dining room and spends a futile minute struggling through the mass of bodies to chase it, ending up with nothing to show for her efforts. She’s standing in the middle of the dance floor, turning in a fruitless circle, when a figure catches her eye. Octavia’s at the edge of the dance floor, and she has the audacity to wink at Lexa before a clump of people obscures her view. By the time they’re gone, so is Octavia. Lexa growls and bullies her way out of the mob, glancing left and right (but not frantically. She isn’t frantic). A flutter of cloth around the corner of the hallway and Lexa’s speed walking in that direction, the echo of Octavia’s laugh in her ears when she rounds the corner and finds the hallway empty of her goddess. She stalks down the hall, stepping over a sleeping pile of togas and peering into the front hall. 

The parlor is home to a small group of people huddled around an Ouija board, looked over by a skeptical frat boy with shaggy hair and a look of disdain on his face. As she watches, they clamor quietly over the movement of the pointer. A movement above draws her eyes - there’s a pair of shoes dangling over the chandelier in the front hall, the entire fixture listing dangerously to one side. The chandelier turns slowly, and Lexa’s mesmerized by the kaleidoscope of light for a hazy moment. 

She jerks out of her daze and is about to retrace her steps when someone grabs her arm. The person whirls her around and presses her into the wall, warm breath ghosting across her cheeks. She registers a hand on her thigh, burning into the fabric of her jeans and freezing her to the spot. The touch sends her mind reeling through narrow channels of desire, dizzying and sharp. She wants to move, desperate for friction - but the sinfully seductive smirk of her goddess spears her through the chest and pins her to the wall. 

Octavia’s eyes devour her, gaze tracing the plump swell of Lexa’s mouth. “Going somewhere?” Lexa forgets how to speak, hyperaware of the light pressure of Octavia’s fingers on her leg. Octavia chuckles huskily, and Lexa’s mouth goes dry. “What’s your name, stranger?” Somehow, the intimacy of their exchange morphs the ‘stranger’ into something provocative, the word dipping low into her gut. 

“Lexa.” she forces out, throat thick. Octavia’s thumb rubs a soothing circle on her hip (when did her hand get that high?), and Lexa swallows with difficulty. 

“Lexa.” Octavia murmurs, testing her name out. The way the crunching syllable of the X rolls off her tongue makes Lexa shiver. “Do you need something, Lexa?” 

Need. Sudden realization of how wet she is releases a choked gasp from her lungs, Octavia’s fingers brushing the strip of skin right above the waistband of her jeans. Her hips cant up unconsciously, and Octavia’s smirk is victorious and smug. Lexa wants to wipe it off her face - she grasps Octavia’s wrist, takes a step, and then Octavia’s back hits the wall. Her eyes flutter shut, mouth parting in a silent gasp, and the smoldering ember of arousal in Lexa’s gut flares bright. 

“Hey!” Both Lexa and Octavia turn reluctantly at the call. “Get out of here!” A girl at the Ouija board is glaring at them with the disapproval of an old lady, the frat boy watching their exchange with disinterested wariness. “Your sexual tension is screwing up the readings. Go make out somewhere else!” 

Octavia chuckles, and Lexa’s eyes are drawn back to her. “Catch me if you can.” she murmurs, mischief sparkling in her eyes. Before Lexa can react, Octavia slips out of her grasp and disappears back down the hallway. Lexa almost falls over the sleeping man this time, alcohol numbing her limbs and dulling her motor skills. She stumbles after her goddess, offended ire boiling her blood. Octavia seems keen on testing the limits of her patience, a virtue that is rapidly wearing thin. She dashes through the crowd again, snatching a water bottle from the kitchen as she passes. She’s thirsty (both in the slang and dehydrated sense) and downs the bottle as she peers into each room she passes. Octavia’s not in the bathroom - Lincoln’s still passed out on the toilet, snoring contentedly. She closes the door. The closet is the home of a sleeping girl and the dining room is still overflow for the dance floor, a half-naked frat boy dancing on the table with a frenzy only born of being absolutely wasted. 

The yard is devoid of any deities, and Lexa relishes the cool air for only a moment before returning to the chase. She stands for a moment at the edge of the dance floor, looking through the mess of bodies with increasing frustration. Abruptly, a whisper of breath tickles the nape of her neck. She whirls - barely fast enough to see Octavia darting up the stairs. She follows, breathless with anticipation and lightheaded with desire. 

By the time she manages to get upstairs, the hallways are empty. She checks the left hallway first: the bathroom is still occupied by the threesome, two of the bedrooms are locked, and there are screaming frat boys playing Halo in the game room. The right hallway is similarly dead ended - except for the last room. The door swings open and Octavia’s waiting, sitting on the edge of the bed with a hungry look on her face. 

Lexa closes the door behind her and presses her back against it. The lock clicks. Octavia’s expression sharpens. 

“Who was that with Raven?” she asks, the smallest smile playing along her lips. Lexa cringes and supposes she deserves that, for asking about Lincoln earlier. 

“My cousin, Anya. They’re in the same Physics class.” Lexa tacks on the last part lamely, trying to fill up the silence. Octavia hmms, completely uninterested in what Lexa’s saying. Lexa steps forward, drawn by the allure of the goddess’ gaze. “Why are you running from me?” 

Octavia shrugs loosely. Lexa’s distracted by the sharp lines of her collarbones, spending a brief second imagining hickeys scattered across her skin. “Usually, guys give up after five minutes.” She gives a slow blink, tilting her head to the side. “You’re…persistent.” 

Lexa laughs throatily, advancing on Octavia. “That’s because you’re a fucking tease.” Her words deepen into a growl, and Octavia laughs breathily, excitement bright in her eyes. She tilts Octavia’s head back with a finger, a thrill running through her at Octavia’s willing submissiveness. A goddess, finally here at her fingertips... She smirks. “And two can play at that game.”

Kissing Octavia is a delicious victory. A moan vibrates between them, and Octavia’s hand grasps the back of her neck to pull her closer. Lexa straddles Octavia and presses her down, something satisfying in pinning her and feeling their combined weight sink into the mattress. Octavia isn’t shy (but Lexa knew that already), tongue stroking against hers in a way that makes Lexa see stars. Her hips are twitching under Lexa’s, a tinge of desperation in the movement. Lexa’s hand wanders down and under Octavia’s dress, trailing up her thigh - and she stills when her fingers meet slick heat without resistance. 

Octavia grins at her shock, tilting her hips up for more pressure. “You were saying?” Lexa gives an incredulously amused huff, shaking her head, and presses a single finger into Octavia. She moans, body arching into Lexa’s and eyes squeezing shut as Lexa thrusts slowly into her. Lexa must have a greater influence on her than she thought, because already her walls are fluttering and clenching around her finger as she pumps her hand. Lexa curls her finger and Octavia cries out, hands clutching at Lexa’s back. Lexa smirks, dazed with lust. 

“You need to come, don’t you?” She sucks at Octavia’s neck, nipping harder than is strictly necessary. Octavia groans and arches into Lexa’s hand. She takes that as a yes. “Too bad.” Octavia whimpers when Lexa removes her hand, nails digging into her back. Her eyes fly open, wide and begging. 

“N-no! Lexa-” 

Lexa shakes her head, thrilled at the power she holds over Octavia. “You don’t get to come until I do.” Immediately Octavia surges up, pawing at Lexa’s shirt with desperation bred of being on the brink of orgasm. 

Her voice is rough and gravelly, the texture of it feeding Lexa’s arousal. “I can make you come in seconds, Lexa, don’t try me-” Lexa shoves her back down, and her back bounces against the mattress. Octavia’s expression of surprise is savagely satisfying. 

“I didn’t say you could touch me, Octavia.” she growls, and despair blooms on Octavia’s face. “Ask. Nicely.” 

Octavia frowns, and while she’s figuring out how exactly to do that, Lexa slides in between her legs and kneels. Octavia watches her with hopeful eyes, breathing in sharply when Lexa blows gently on her clit. “L-lexa, please.” she tries, weakly. Lexa scoffs, and presses her mouth to Octavia. The girl jerks beneath her, eyes snapping shut in bliss. 

“Weak. Try again.” Lexa licks experimentally, tasting Octavia’s arousal. She wishes she weren’t so drunk, because her tongue is still slightly numb and she really doesn’t want Octavia to come - yet. Octavia hitches her leg over Lexa’s shoulder, a hand tangling into her hair and pulling with barely restrained need. 

“Lexa, please, let me c-come. Please.” Her voice shakes and cracks at Lexa’s teasing pace, hips bucking up in a desperate yearning for more pressure. “Fuck, please, let me touch you-” A choked sob escapes her throat as Lexa runs her tongue along her slit, slow and deliberate. “Oh god, Lexa, please. I want - I need you, ple-please, let me touch you, ah-!” Lexa licks hard, once, and Octavia writhes beneath her. Finally, though, her self-control snaps. “L-lexa, please-”

Lexa leans back on her heels, and Octavia’s disappointed whine morphs into an expression of hope. Lexa tries to scowl but fluttering excitement curls the edges of her frown up. “You’re lucky I’m impatient.” Octavia takes that as her cue. Lexa’s shirt is across the room in seconds, her tank top and bra following in quick succession. “Fuck.” Lexa groans as Octavia’s mouth envelops her breast, hot and wet and so good. She lets Octavia push her down on the bed, one hand working the button of her jeans and the other palming her breast. “I expect nothing but the best.” she pants, and she can feel Octavia’s smirk imprinted into her skin. 

“You can count on it.” 

Octavia’s enthusiasm is boundless, and Lexa finds that her alcohol-muddled mind can’t keep up. Octavia’s mouth is on her breast, then trailing hot and wet down her stomach, nimble fingers tweaking her nipples - and then her pants are gone, and Octavia’s mouth devours her arousal. Pleasure sparks down her spine, a needy whimper flying out of her mouth that would have embarrassed her if she were sober. Octavia smirks up at her, and the slick shine coating her mouth sends a jolt of arousal straight to Lexa's center so strong it hurts. 

She suddenly understands Lincoln’s earlier predicament. 

“You said seconds?” Lexa mumbles incredulously, and Octavia’s grin becomes predatory. 

“Time me.” 

Lexa doesn’t have time to respond before Octavia’s tongue is licking, swirling, tracing patterns that leave her breathless. Waves of pleasure crash into her, and suddenly she realizes she’s moments away from coming. Her hands twist into the covers, back arching in a desperate attempt to keep her orgasm at bay. “A-ah, Octavia, fuck-” Octavia moans, filthy and loud, and the vibrations tip her closer to the edge. Eyes squeezed shut, Lexa fights the incoming flood even as her hips buck into Octavia’s mouth. “Ah- fuck, fuck-” Octavia’s fingers dig into her ass and abruptly she’s coming, clenching so hard she whites out for a moment. “Octavia-!” The strangled gasp hurts her throat, but the pain is easily forgotten in the drowning pulses of her fading orgasm. 

It seems to take her an hour to recover, her mind adrift in floating sleepiness. She’s dizzy and lightheaded - through either lack of oxygen or sheer pleasure, she can’t tell. Octavia finally draws her from her daze, hands grasping her shoulders and shaking her insistently. “Lexa, please. I need to come, please.” Her voice cracks, shatters on the last plea, hands stuttering and trembling. “Lexa.”

Lexa’s body responds slower than she wants, and Octavia’s body thrums with savage desperation at her sluggish movements. Lexa kisses her and shivers at the taste of herself on Octavia’s mouth, easily slipping two fingers into Octavia. The girl writhes beneath her, hips bucking uncontrollably against the curl of Lexa’s slick fingers. “Come for me.” Lexa commands lowly. “Come for me, Octavia.” Octavia whimpers, and with her forehead pressed to Lexa’s, she comes. A silent cry arches from her throat and she clenches hard around Lexa’s fingers, nails digging into Lexa’s back and dragging lines of fire down her skin. 

Lexa keeps pumping her hand through her orgasm, meeting Octavia’s weakening thrusts. She shifts down and replaces her hand with her mouth, mumbling into the slickness of Octavia’s orgasm. “I know you can do another, Octavia….” The girl blinks dazedly down at her, still shuddering through the last shocks of her climax. Lexa doesn’t give her time to recover, moaning as Octavia’s musk coats her tongue. “Come for me, Octavia….” Lexa drags arcane symbols across Octavia’s sodden folds, delighting in the choked sob that rips from Octavia’s lungs. 

“Lexa, I can’t, ah- fuck-” Her nails draw blood from Lexa’s forearm, and a second orgasm washes over her with the force of a tsunami. 

She comes to seconds later, blinking moisture out of her eyes and twitching with sensitivity as Lexa drags her fingers up across her stomach. “You’re beautiful.” Lexa whispers, voice rusty and reverent. 

Octavia laughs softly, drowsiness lapping at the edges of her consciousness. “You’re drunk.” is her response, scooching down the bed to settle next to Lexa. She meets Lexa’s eager, sloppy kiss halfway, sinking into the sensation of the adoration Lexa presses against her lips. 

Lexa sighs into the kiss, fingers tracing the outline of Octavia’s body with the gentle deliberation of a sculptor admiring a classical masterpiece. She falls back and smiles dopily at Octavia, nestling her head in the crook of Octavia’s shoulder and closing her eyes for a moment to revel in the moment…

And the next time she wakes up, Octavia’s curled into her side and the lights are off. The clock in the corner blinks three hours past midnight and her bleary mind registers that she’s shivering. She tugs the blanket from Octavia’s grasp and tucks it around herself, huddling closer to Octavia. 

The second time she wakes up, the sun is spiking into her eyes and the bed is empty and cold. She jerks into a sitting position, rubbing her eyes and feeling the twinge across her muscles at the action. A yawn sparks a headache into existence in the back of her head, buzzing irritatingly in the background of her thoughts. A full-body stretch brings a sizzle of pain down her back, and a quick surprised glance at her arm reveals raw, angry red crescents indented into her skin, dried blood crusted on her skin. The reminder brings a swoop of disappointment to her gut. 

The room is empty - Octavia is gone, definitely gone, and the sheets next to her are cold. Probably have been, for a while. Lexa sighs, rubbing her face with her hands. It was a night well spent, she doesn’t regret it - but she wishes Octavia had stayed. Groaning, she cracks her neck and begins to look around the room for her clothes. She needs to text Anya, tell her she’s safe. Thank god it’s a weekend, because she doubts she can get anything done with this hangover - 

The door clicks open and Lexa jerks the sheets up to her chest in reflex. Octavia steps through, in loose sweatpants and a university t-shirt. There's a glass of water in her hand, a small white bottle clasped in the other. “Oh, you’re awake.” She smiles gently. “You’re probably hungover. Aspirin?” She crosses the room and holds the glass of water out. Lexa stares at her for a moment. 

“I thought you left.” Somehow, even sober, her language functions aren’t up to par. Octavia raises an eyebrow. 

“Do you want me to leave?” She seems unaffected by the idea of it, but Lexa can somehow see the faintest tinge of disappointment in the slant of her shoulders. She shakes her head slowly. 

“....No.” She takes the glass and the pill Octavia holds out, downing it in one gulp. “Thank you.” she murmurs, and her voice is raspy from shouting. 

Octavia watches her steadily, an unidentifiable emotion intense in her eyes. She reaches out and takes hold of Lexa’s arm, running her fingers over the marks embedded in her skin delicately. Lexa watches her face, and something flashes across her expression, too quick to catch. “Sorry about these.” She actually sounds apologetic, and Lexa blinks incredulously. 

“Why?” 

Octavia meets her eyes, thumb rubbing light circles over her wrist. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

Lexa pauses at the unexpected sentiment, and her eyes are drawn to the dark hickeys scattered on Octavia’s neck. A smirk creeps onto her face despite herself. “I think we’re even.” 

Octavia meets Lexa’s eyes and sees where her gaze is directed, a faintly teasing smile curling her lips. 

“Oh, those? That’s nothing, Lexa. I’ve had worse.” Octavia’s eyes glint, and Lexa realizes she’s being baited again. She can’t really find it in herself to mind, a matching grin spreading across her face. 

She stands, letting the blanket pool around her feet. Octavia bites her lip, dragging her gaze down Lexa’s body. “Oh, really?” Lexa murmurs, stepping closer and reveling in Octavia’s small intake of breath. “Is that a challenge?” 

Octavia huffs amusedly, eyes fixed on Lexa’s mouth. “It would be…but I have work in an hour. Give me your phone and we can find a better time.” Lexa laughs, incredulous at Octavia’s boldness and the flush of affection she feels. 

“Are you kicking me out?” She crosses the room to dig her phone out of her discarded jeans, turning around to see Octavia’s gaze flick up from where she’d been admiring Lexa’s ass. 

“Hmm?”

Lexa chuckles. “Hey, you’re the one who has work in an hour, not me.” Octavia sighs, tilting her head to the side. 

“Unfortunately." Her demeanor changes, tone growing cocky. "But I’m pretty confident in how fast I can make you come, so….” 

Lexa smirks, a twinge of arousal between her legs at the promise. She swipes her thumb across the screen of her phone and tosses it to Octavia. "Give me your number, and then let's see how fast you really are."

Octavia types her number in, grinning arrogantly. "I bet you I can make you come twice and still make breakfast."

It's the weirdest combination of sex and domesticity Lexa's ever heard in a bet, but she's not one to turn down free food. Her thighs ache pleasantly as she slinks towards Octavia, and the woman - her goddess - smirks sinfully. Lexa stops inches from Octavia's lips, shivering at the way her breath ghosts across her face.

"You're on." 

(In an hour, Lexa comes three times and Octavia makes them both omelets.)

**Author's Note:**

> All comments make my day infinitely better. Thanks for reading!


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